


Angels Cry

by VeryImpressive



Category: K-pop, SHINee
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Character Study, Depression, Drinking, First Love, Five Stages of Grief, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lighting Don't Strike The Same Place Twice, Lost Love, Love Letters, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Moving On, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryImpressive/pseuds/VeryImpressive
Summary: I couldn't have prepared myself for this fall, shattered in pieces, curled on the floor.Supernatural love conquers all, remember we used to touch the sky.And lighting don't strike, the same place twice, when you and I, said goodbye I felt the angels cry.





	Angels Cry

**Part I**

It still didn’t feel real.

He thought, maybe, that one of these days, he was going to wake up from this nightmare, and he’d find him alive and well.

Well, maybe not well - he understood perfectly that Jonghyun had always struggled, but he’d be alive. It was a fleeting dream, he supposed, one that was born in his dreams, and one that would stay there, until even it began to fade. That thought terrified him, more than it saddened him, because it meant that he was starting to recover from the loss. If he was recovering from that day, it meant that more time was passing between Jonghyun’s death, and the present, which meant that he was leaving Jonghyun and his life, behind.

All of those dark thoughts rounded back on themselves, and they only served to remind Kibum that he’d lost one of the most important people of his entire life.

_Jonghyun is dead._

That was how he spent the first morning after the funeral, ensconced in his bed, curtains drawn, sitting up with his arms around his knees, staring at the wall. The sun peaking out from under the curtains being the only proof that the world was going out from outside. 

At first, it was painful to remind himself of that fact, and then it got to the point where he had to do so.

Just to get used to the idea.

_Jonghyun is dead._

_He is gone._

His death had shaken everything to the core, and even a week on, all of the pieces were still in the air. If one were to set aside the personal foundations of everyone that knew him, and everyone that had ever loved him, his departure had changed everything. Kibum still hadn’t a thought of what they were going to do now, in the wake of his death, and the company was sensitive enough to realize that if they were to broach it  _now_ , the response they would get in return would be anything but positive. But a week on, and he had to admit that he was starting to turn to the future, as guilty as he might have felt, he had to be thinking of what the rest of his life would bring.

But he was still destroyed from the inside out, it would take years for him to glue himself together again, and even when he managed to get most of the pieces back together, he’d never be whole. Jonghyun had taken many things with him to the other side, including a piece of Kibum. Perhaps it was more than one piece, in fact - the more that he thought about it, the more he realized that he was now missing a half of himself. Jonghyun had taken the future with him, he’d taken his sense of security, and he'd also taken the foundation with which he built his entire adult life. All of it, gone, gone within an instant, and that had ravaged his mental stability. 

It was said that there was one love that defined how all the others would follow, for everyone, but the most lucky, that got to say that their first loves were also their last. That _first_ one, they would define every need, every want, every desire, every passion, for good  _or_ bad, that would be demanded of all that followed them. They were the standard bearer, the trend setter, the first, and no one would be like them.

Jonghyun had been his first love, the first person that he loved unconditionally, outside of his family, the first person that he’d dreamed about marrying, the first person he’d ever kissed, the first person that he’d ever made love with. In fact, Jonghyun represented, just about, _every single major first_ that he’d experienced in his life.

_And now, he’s gone._

A week later, and he still hadn’t quite figured out where he was going to go from here, because where did you go from this? The bottom had been pulled out from underneath him.

He’d always thought that somehow, maybe - they’d be able to have another chance at it.

Even if it was when the lights had faded, and if they were still famous, their idol days would be long behind them.

Now, whatever was left of his physical body was now entombed under six-feet of dirt, and he’d never felt more alone.

He’d been more content to slide into the depression phase, and was more than ready to, until only an hour ago.

An hour ago, the nightmare had taken on another element, one that he’d been moving too fast to see. Jonghyun’s will had been clear, he’d gotten some personal items that had been found in the apartment, and among them had been a key. The key belonged to a safety deposit box, and there were specific instructions that stated that only _he_ was to open it. It had only _now_ just arrived by courier from the bank that Jonghyun had deposited it with.

Having it brought to him was as if they were opening up the wound agai, with a stab to the side, and he was crying again.

Jonghyun had been his first love, perhaps the love of his life, and if he opened that box, he couldn’t imagine the pain that it’d cause him. Jonghyun could’ve left the sweetest gift he’d ever given him in that box, and all it would serve to do would be to remind him that he was gone.

At least in this life, Jonghyun didn’t physically exist anymore, but he knew that no matter the pain that realization would inflict on him, he had to open it.

It was important enough for Jonghyun to tell him to do so in his will, so he felt almost bound to do it.

But every time he got close to it, he found that he couldn’t open it. That was why he found himself facing away from kitchen table, where the box was laying, staring out at the city, drinking some cheap wine.

At first, he thought the wine would settle his nerves, but even the drink couldn’t conquer his nerves. It was only after that experience that he understood what could settle him down enough to actually open it up.

Twenty minutes from those series of phones calls, he was now casting frightened glances back at the box, and drinking another glass of wine.

They were all in the same state as he was, and frankly, he was glad that they all lived within mere miles of each other. He could do it with them here, he could open that box, and accept Jonghyun’s last gift to him.

They all knew, of course.

The two of them had done their best to keep it as discreet as possible, but they did know, they had to know. They might have only had a vague understanding of it, they might have known that it had happened, but they never understood _what_ happened. Jinki, Minho, and Taemin were the only ones that could help him through this, they were the only ones that he trusted to help him. They needed to stick together in the days to come, it would be among some of the most trying in their lives. He believed that they could though, he liked to think that Jonghyun wouldn’t have left them like he did, if he thought that they couldn’t do it, if they couldn't managed to survive.

The knock on the door drew him out of his reverie, Kibum was more than ready to do this, and so happy to not be alone through this anymore.

Setting his wine glass down on the table, he wiped his sweaty palms down on his pants, and headed towards the door.

He’d seen at least one of them every day since the funeral, and he wondered if it was just for _him_ , or was that the new thing? If so, were they talking about it? Kibum wasn’t prepared to do so.

Maybe that was where he failed Jonghyun, maybe that was where they had all failed him. They’d been so busy having him be the glue that held them all together, that they forgot to actually check up on him.

But he stopped himself from going down that path, there would be a time for more self recriminations, now was not one of those times.

Opening the door, he was greeted by the sight of Taemin, and he smiled, despite the pall in the air, as the younger man hugged him. It didn’t quite matter how much time had passed, or what he went through, because behind closed doors, there was still something about Taemin that was still that kid that Jonghyun used to walk to school every day.

And Kibum blanched yet again with realizations like that, because he was all at once reminded of how deep this loss went. He was also reminded that he most definitely wasn’t the only one going through this. But he was probably the only one that was going through this particular vein of it. Kibum had been worried for Taemin though, throughout the whole ordeal really. It had never been in Taemin’s nature to hold back, but he hadn’t seen one display of the emotions that were so obviously running through everyone else. Like Jinki, he wondered if Taemin was taking more personally then was needed, as if he could've stopped what had happened to Jonghyun. 

_None of this was your fault._

_It was the fault of a lot of people, but it wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t Jinki’s fault. It wasn’t even Jonghyun’s fault, as much as he may have actually done it to himself, he always struggled here._

_The world is just cruel, sometimes._

At one point, he’d wanted to beat the words into all of their heads, so that they couldn’t think otherwise. 

There had been a time when Jonghyun had struggled more openly, but he'd managed keep it away from Taemin for many, many years. Taemin had known though, and as the years went on, he’d gotten more and more hints about how easily Jonghyun slipped into depression. But Kibum also had the sinking feeling that Taemin, and really Minho and Jinki _too_ , didn’t understand how bad it could get, of how much of a front Jonghyun put up. 

By that same token, he might have been aware of how just how dark Jonghyun’s thoughts were, but he'd had never expected this to happen, not in his wildest dreams.

Of all of them, he’d be the only one to rightly carry some measure of guilt, because in retrospect, the signs were all there. They had been for years, he’d just never expected Jonghyun _not_ to seek out any help.

And for the umpteenth time since this nightmare had begun, he had to stop himself from that line of thinking.

If he got too caught up in it, if let his grief consume him to such ends, it led him to think that maybe it was more comfortable in a dirt hole next to Jonghyun.

That was something that he couldn’t do, no matter the personal cost to him.

He had to _endure_.

He’d done it to this point.

_He’d come too far, just to give up._

“Thanks for coming,” Kibum said.

“Thanks for calling,” Taemin replied.

The younger man had been crying, that much Kibum could tell. He felt better that Taemin had managed to let some of it out, if only in private.

He’d be there for him.

Kibum could hear two distinct voices coming from the hall behind Taemin, and when he looked back down at the younger man, he nodded. He was glad that he didn’t have to wait very much longer.

“They were parking the car,” he answered the wordless question, and stepped out of Kibum’s arms. “I see wine, is there anything to eat?”

“Help yourself,” Kibum answered easily.

It wasn’t like he was eating it anyway.

Whatever silence that would’ve encompassed them was lost when Jinki and Minho clamored through the doorway only moments later, without asking for permission, as if it was their right to do so. 

_Maybe it is._

Jonghyun was gone, but that didn’t erase the decade that they’d spent together.

He might have been his lover, his best friend, and confidant - but these three were still his family.

They were still here, and they still needed to each other, if they worked together again remained to be seen, but this bond was for life. 

“Sorry we took so long,” Minho explained, as he sat the paper sack that he’d been carrying down on the table, and turned to envelop him in a hug. “Had to pick up something a little less heavy for Jinki to drink.”

Minho had been laying it on thick since  _The Day_ , but Kibum wouldn’t complain. If this is how Minho chose to cope, they were all the better for it. It was better than how _he’d_ dealt with it at first, what with his cheery morning thoughts of death and hopelessness. At least Minho was trying to bring some positivity to a situation that dearly needed it.

Kibum turned and was met by an even _tighter_ hug at the hands of Jinki.

For a moment, he was shocked by the force of it, only to come back down to ground and remember that he was talking it hard too. On some level, Jinki probably still felt like he had to take care of them all, and maybe he blamed himself after that business earlier in the year. It was not unreasonable to think that Jinki thought that if he hadn’t been grounded by the company, he might have been there to stop Jonghyun.

Kibum hugged him back as tight as he could, trying his best to convey it all.

It wasn’t his fault, it had _never_ been his fault, and that he was still here. He still had a life to live, and in fifty or sixty years, when he got ready to leave for the next lifetime, when they all did, maybe then, and only then, would it be the right time to reflect on this thing. 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he was thinking it only for Jinki, but for _all_ of them.

“You’re not drinking?” Kibum asked.

It was almost a whisper.

“Can’t start,” Jinki’s reply was almost shockingly blunt, but it was the truth, and all of them knew it.

Maybe he figured that the time for half-truths was over. Let total honesty win the day, if one of them was suffering, they needed to talk about it.

If they talked about it, then maybe they wouldn’t have to deal with this sort of pain again, if they couldn’t count on each other for help, they could count on no one.

Kibum knew, right then and there, that he’d made the right choice.

“Good.”


End file.
